FEAR DOES NOT OWN ME
FEAR DOES NOT OWN ME
I have written only once about this topic previously (on my blog). Some events are so harrowing, they either shape who we become or we move past them.
Our neighbor molested me when I was young, just eleven years old.
About the age my girl is now.
He was a dad, with girls of his own. It wasn’t just once, and it didn’t just happen to me.
There’s way more to the story that I won’t go into here, except to add that I did testify against him in both civil and military court. He did go to jail. He was also courtmartialed.
This series is about fear. How it shapes us. The impressions it makes on our souls.
What happened happened. I focused on my studies, athletics, family and friends. I never felt this experience held me back in any way, despite knowing it was always there. I didn’t share it with people, of course.
Who wants to talk about something like that?
In my last piece MISTAKE NUMBER FOUR, I discussed the attempted rape I experienced in college. I think my instinctive response to fight back with everything I had was directly related to what happened to me as a child, when I wasn’t able to defend myself against someone so much bigger and stronger than I.
It wasn’t until I had a daughter of my own that the anxiety set in. I didn’t even realize what was happening, to be honest. I had to return to work and the thought of leaving my precious baby girl with a total stranger (an incredibly sweet woman in my own home, where my husband worked from his home office) caused me to spin into postpartum depression.
My world turned gray.
Though the circumstances were entirely different, taking that leap of faith, trusting someone else not to harm my child as I had been hurt, completely took over my entire thought process, even when I wasn’t consciously thinking about it. It was such a terrible thought, I stopped thinking, stopped functioning in any normal way.
I’ve since learned much about hormones and the havoc they wreak on your body, thoughts, moods, (even sleep!) and how pregnancy (and post-pregnancy) affects all of that. I researched, I read, I got help. I had a wonderful female OB/GYN who immediately recognized what was going on with me and put me on appropriate meds—and sent me to a therapist, pronto.
Given the experiences I’d had in my past, you would think I’d been in therapy my whole life. However, I’d never been before. I’m fortunate that I found someone great, and he has helped me work through much of what I didn’t understand.
Embracing what you fear most about your past is something many people run from their whole lives—we see it every day with drugs and alcohol. I’m convinced that’s why my ex-love killed himself — his addiction to alcohol and anger stemmed from his rough upbringing. I used to keep wondering about a drug rehab near me where he could check in for treatment. While I dabbled, as most kids do, I never did anything hard and I fortunately don’t have an addictive personality. Unless you count coffee. Then, yea.
Listen, I’m not the poster child for mental health by any means. I recognize when the gray is closing in, when I start to get defensive and turn in on myself. That’s when I take a step back. I retreat. I don’t shout out or attack. I’m steely and I fight back in my own way. I’ve learned to ask for help.
And I write. I always, always write. With honesty, I give you a glimpse inside my heart.
I own my fear, but my fear does not own me.
On a much lighter note, my new book THE MANCODE: EXPOSED is now available — woot! Please visit Amazon to download your copy for only 99cents this week (no Kindle required — they have free apps for your computer, smartphone, or tablet).
A WALK IN THE SNARK (also just 99cents this week) has hit #1 on the Kindle Motherhood list wow, eleven or twelve times now. Take that Jenny and Tori with your fake boobs and blonde hair and your millions — ha. Redheads so rock. (Call me.)
Celebrity Rehab–an opinion
Do you watch VH-1’s show Celebrity Rehab Bonuses? I do. It’s a fabulous show. I love it. I liken it to a car wreck–you don’t want to watch but you can’t look away. It’s THAT good, in a squirmy kind of way.